Tired

I'm tired.
Of the blood.
Of the bandaids.
Of looking like a drug addict and looking in the mirror to see an acne-covered 13 year-old when really, I'm a woman of nearly 21.
I'm tired of people asking, and I'm tired of having to make up reasons for my appearance because I don't have enough time to explain the truth.
I'm tired of the peroxide, the ointments, the red under my fingernails that reminds me it's past time that I clipped them.
I'm tired of questions.
Don't ask me how my skin is. Ask me how I am. On the inside.
Because on the inside, I'm a panting dog.
Been running for too long.
I need to put some things to rest before I can rest myself.
I'm tired of sore spots.
I'm tired of the Morse code- the scar dots and scar dashes that people try to read rather than looking at my eyes.
I hate this.
This is not me.
This is not what I want.
I'm tired.
I want to heal.
And damn it,
nothing can stop me from doing so.
Because I'm too tired not to.